Old Story

After crossing many ways 
A man arrived at a clear and long road
Full of calmness and light
The man walked the road 
Listening to the birds and receiving the strong sunlight
With his chest full of songs and the mouth full with smiles.
The man walked days and days the long road
Which was lost in an uniform planeness.
He walked days and days…
The few birds flew away
Only the sun stayed
The strong sun that burnt his pale face.
After long time he remembered to look for a source
But the sun had dried all the sources.
He observed the horizon
And saw that the road went beyond, much beyond all the things.
He observed the sky
And did not see any cloud.
And the man remembered other paths.
They were hard, but the water sang in all the sources
They were steep, but the flowers embalmed the pure air
The feet bleed on rough soil, but the friendly tree guarded his sleep.
There was storm and there was plenty
There was shade and there was light.

The man looked at the clear and desert road for a moment
Looked into himself for a long time
And turned back.
(By Vinicius de Moraes)


Who could explain it? Do I like him that much because I need something to hold on to, or has everything happened `cause I liked him too much? It's just as complicated as life, the universe, and everything, but we'll end up having dinner at that restaurant, where it all ends.


Enquanto tomo meu café da manhã
a mosca me observa, esfregando suas patinhas.
Mosca maldita,
me lembra que a vida é pura oportunidade.


I had a dream, Joe

Last night I dreamed I was at a Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds concert. It happened in a small venue, and after it had finished all the other girls went to the backstage. The place became pretty empty so I sat on a stool and stayed with my head down, thinking about life. Suddenly someone came at me and when I looked up it was Nick, he then took my hand and gave me a long, sad, hurtful kiss. It was weird and not good at all. I felt as if he was trying to tell me that sometimes we want something because we think it's going to be really good, but when it finally happens it's actually really bad, and that's why life is so full of sorrow...


Through the mists of my mind I see lips I've never kissed 
And all the things I've never done or ever will 
Between times, lost spaces of now
saudade de escrever coisas bregas como:
o vinho é o combustível
meu desejo, o comburente
Fire walk with me